


If the only prayer you said was thank you, that would be enough

by cellardoors_and_petrichor



Series: I love you and I like you: A collection of ficlets [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Healthy Behavior, Healthy Relationships, Porn With Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 14:05:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3211901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellardoors_and_petrichor/pseuds/cellardoors_and_petrichor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver gets a lesson in gratitude.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If the only prayer you said was thank you, that would be enough

It starts with a jar.

 

Oliver is at his workspace sharpening arrows, when a glimmer catches his peripheral vision. On the table next to Felicity’s desk sits a glass jar with a slip of paper inside. At the oddity, Oliver turns his attention to her to ask ‘why exactly is there a jar on the bench we usually reserve for your purse’ when the computer alerts them to their latest target’s whereabouts and he forgets the question altogether.

 

-

 

The next time he encounters the jar is when Felicity accidentally slides it across the table. Threatening to fall on the floor, Oliver uses his reflexes to catch it before he even realizes that it is the mystery object. He returns it to its spot as he takes a quick glance at it. It’s just a plain glass jar with a green ribbon tied around its neck.

 

“Thanks, Oliver. I can be such a klutz sometimes.”

 

“Of course Felicity.”

 

She returns to her work and Oliver is about to return to his own when the curiosity nags at him.

 

“Hey, Felicity?”

 

She turns in her chair to give him her full attention. “Is this a lecture about safety in the workplace because let me tell you, I already got it from Digg last week when I was testing out an explosive arrow and started that fire. I mean how was I supposed to know that you left out one of those oily rags you use on your motorcycle, which, by the way, is a death trap. Though it does add to that hot bad boy thing you have going on. Wow, you are actually a walking cliché. I mean how much more rebellious can you get from a vigilante?”

 

“Wait, what fire?” Oliver interrupts, his brows furrow in confusion and slight concern at her possible foray into arson.

 

Feigning innocence, Felicity replies, “Hm? What did you need?”

 

Oliver tables the subject for another time and returns to the matter at hand. “What is the jar for?” he asks with a nod in its direction.

 

Felicity smiles at being let off the hook and brightens as she says, “Oh! It’s a gratitude jar.”

 

He quirks his eyebrow questioningly, waiting for her to continue.

 

“I’ve had a rough few weeks with the increased demands from my day job and night job – both of which I still love by the way – but, after that case two weeks ago, I felt like I was coming up short in everything I did. So, I found this thing on the internet.” She motions towards the jar. “Each day you write down something that made you feel grateful that day and put it in the jar. It’s not much, but it helps keep some perspective, you know?”

 

Oliver hadn’t realized how much the past few weeks had been upsetting her. “My offer still stands from before, you know. If you ever need to tell someone about your day, you can tell me.” He pauses and adds, “That jar does seem like a good idea though.”

 

Famous last words.

 

-

 

The next day, Felicity crosses her legs to sit down across from Oliver who is stretching on the mats. She just smiles, holding another jar in one hand, a pen and some paper in the other.

 

“Hello Felicity.”

 

“Hello Oliver. I brought you a present.” She sits down the jar in front of him. He notices she had scrawled his name and an arrow in sharpie on the top. Not sure how to respond, he looks across the room and silently asks Digg for help.

 

Digg smiles that smug smirk of his and replies, “Don’t look at me man. She gave me one of those last week.”

 

“Thank you Felicity.” He expects that to be the end of the conversation but she’s still sitting there. She places the paper and pen on the mat next to the jar and looks at him expectantly.

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

He doesn’t move toward the office supplies and she doesn’t move to leave. Their eyes meet and a wordless battle happens between them; however, if Felicity is one thing, she is tenacious. He breaks first and grabs the pen and paper.

 

“What am I supposed to write?”

 

“Something that you were grateful for today.”

 

He stares at the paper for a long time. It’s not that he isn’t grateful. Of course he’s grateful for so many things and people in his life, but to pick one thing from today specifically seems impossible. Today hadn’t been a good day. It was as though all the petty things that could go wrong did. He was so wound up by the end of the day that he had spent at least an hour training, managing to scrape up his knuckles and spent the next two hours patrolling, letting a drug dealer get away.

 

Oliver isn’t trying to fool anyone. He knows he isn’t emotionally healthy. He always feels guilty and he never feels like he is enough. That’s what all his problems boil down to: the never enough problem. He knows that he left a piece of himself on that island, he still feels its effects when he wakes in the middle of the night, drenched in a cold sweat; but he also knows he is carrying the weight of everything he has encountered since.  He wasn’t strong enough to keep Tommy and Sara alive. He wasn’t fast enough to stop his city from being destroyed on more than one occasion. And so he trains and trains and does everything he can to hold it all together.

 

So when he looks up from the blank paper at Felicity, he silently begs her to let it go. Understanding crosses her face and she gives him a small smile, taking the paper and pen to move towards her desk. He moves the jar to a small table pushed against the wall across from his arrow-making station before he goes home for the night.

 

-

 

Felicity doesn’t let it go.

 

Every night he comes back from patrol or a mission, he finds a paper and pen on his workstation. Ultimately, he can only take knowing looks from her for three days before he caves. He gets back after a particularly difficult mission, the life-or-death kind of mission, and sees that damn paper on his desk. Frustrated, he writes the first thing he can think of.

 

_I didn’t die._

 

He ends up surprising himself. Thinking back to the beginning of his crusade, Oliver had been prepared to die fighting for his city. Even as time wore on and he accrued more to fight for, Oliver still felt ready to martyr himself until Felicity knocked sense into him, her voice still ringing echoes in his head: _“You honor the dead by fighting. And you are not done fighting!”_

 

It is only now, looking from this slip of paper to his friends that Oliver realizes he really doesn’t want to die. He folds up the paper and sticks it in the jar. He hopes Felicity and Diggle don’t realize that he can’t meet their eyes as he leaves for the night.

 

-

 

After that, Oliver starts to take the jar more seriously. Some days, he can only think of little things.

 

_I didn’t have a nightmare last night._

 

While some days he has more personal realizations.

 

_My team really does make me stronger._

 

But, the one that changes everything comes a month after he started. The night’s mission was meant to be easy. A local street thug turned wannabe super-villain called Dregz was terrorizing the Glades. It was easy to find his lair and infiltrate it. His goons were only slightly trained, though what they lacked in quality was made up for in quantity. The man himself left a lot to be desired but the lowlife drug dealer did manage to get in one stab with his machete before being immobilized.

It wasn’t an extraordinarily bad laceration, but it is rather deep and needs stitches. He returns to the foundry, and has enough time to place the bow in its case before he gets an armful of blonde IT girl. He winces and stills at the pain blooming from his shoulder before Felicity pulls back. Her eyes search for his injury and widen when they find their target. He lets her push him backwards with her hands on his abs until he hits the medical table.

 

“It’s not that bad, Felicity,” Oliver asserts as he slowly takes off his jacket and undershirt.

 

“ _It’s not that bad, Felicity._ ” She mimics as she pulls out drawers, picking out supplies to suture his wound. She slams each shut, clearly angry at his response. “Yeah, sure. It’s like a paper cut – everyone gets slashed with a machete every now and then. You know what, Oliver? You can be so stubborn about neglecting your own wellbeing sometimes that you don’t realize how much other people worry about you. Stop trying to brush off all your problems like they don’t matter.”

 

By the end of her tirade, she calms down. Her ire is gone, but her concern still radiates off her in waves as she starts to tend to his wound. She has been doing this more and more recently. She never wants to sew the stitches, but she cleans up his wounds before handing over the reigns to Digg. Oliver never really realized that she doesn’t do it to help Digg, but instead she fusses over him so that she knows he is okay.

 

After that, he is quiet for a while. Stitches are done and the foundry is cleaned before Roy and Digg head out for the night. Oliver takes a shower to wipe the sweat, dirt, and blood off his body. He is about to put a shirt on and head home, when he notices Felicity typing at her computer. She’s so beautiful and his heart is gravitates towards her.

 

“Felicity?” He says so softly that it’s barely above a whisper.

 

“I know. I’m sorry for being testy earlier. It’s just frustrating being surrounded by the whole testosterone, alpha-male assertions of masculinity thing.”

 

“That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.” Oliver looks up in embarrassment as he says, “I never really acknowledged that your little project, just like everything else you do has pushed me to be a little more appreciative and I wanted to thank you. I thought I’d show you what I wrote tonight. ” He shows her a piece of paper that just says:

 

 _Felicity_.

 

She looks at the paper and all she says is, “Oh.”

 

“Uh, I kind of thought I might get more of a reaction than ‘oh’.”

 

He looks at her and she looks at him and they look each other in the eye for what feels like forever to Oliver. Her lack of response worries him. Did he misread her? Did he just mess everything up? The questions chip at his resolve and just as he turns away to leave, she grabs his wrists in her hands.

 

“What are you trying to say Oliver?”

 

He feels an urge to rub his hands across his face but he can’t because she’s holding them and she’s looking at him with this expression that is so caring and loving so he says the first thing that comes to mind and he blurts, “I love you.”

 

She’s standing so still and he tries to gently release himself from her grip to calm the sting of rejection when, all of a sudden, Felicity jumps him, wrapping her arms around his neck and legs around his waist. He reflexively moves his hands to hold her up, taking time to run his hands along her thighs and if he spends a little more time on her ass, no one could blame him. She puts her forehead against his with a gorgeous smile on her face and says, “I love you too.”

 

At that, Oliver beams, flashing a smile that he hasn’t felt in years, before moving in to kiss her. It’s a firm kiss that holds promises of love and it is an aphrodisiac to Oliver. He runs his tongue across her lips, begging for her to open up. She bites his lower lip and he groans, kisses her like his life depends on it, like she is as important as the air he breathes.

 

He walks them until her back is up against the wall, untangling her legs from their grip around his waist and breaks the kiss to kneel down and hook her legs over his shoulders. He stares her in the eye as he slides the dress up her thighs to bunch at her waist at which point he takes time to admire a part of her that he’s never had the privilege of seing before. She’s wearing a lilac lace thong, already wet and her skin looks so soft. For fear of ruining it, he almost doesn’t want to run his calloused fingers up her skin – though he does so anyway because he’s only human. She cards her fingers through his hair while he kisses each of her inner thighs slowly.

 

He teases her with hot breath for so long that Felicity begins to lightly tug and he finally relents. He moves the thong to the side and kisses up her center slowly, lips becoming glossed with her arousal until he flicks his tongue briefly over her clit. The moan that it pulls from her is one of the best sounds he has ever heard.

 

He slides two and then three fingers inside of her and it’s his turn to groan. He looks at her beautiful face and watches her sigh with pleasure as he slowly slides his fingers in and out. Her wetness is almost dripping and her extra lubricant slides down his finger into the palm of his hand. He takes his fingers out long enough to lick his palm and manages to get out a rough, ‘Oh God, Felicity. You’re so fucking wet’, before he fastens his mouth to her. She tastes so good that he wants to take his time. He could spend the rest of his life pulling out the sounds slipping from her mouth and die a happy man. He eats her out slowly, still sliding his fingers in and out until her thighs are trembling. One of her hands insistently tugs on his hair while the other cradles his head to push him closer at which point he speeds up. She starts to beg him for more, spilling his name from her lips like a prayer. He looks up at her, seeing her eyes screwed tight and sweat sheening her brow, and goddam if that isn’t one of the best sights he has ever seen. He watches her as he hums, the vibration effectively pushing her over the edge. Her thighs gently squeeze his head as he works her through her orgasm, not once taking his eyes off her.

 

Eventually, he removes his fingers, licking them clean – an action that does not escape her attention if the hum he hears is any indication. He takes a minute to rest the side of his head against her inner thigh. He’s sure he looks lovesick but he can’t stop himself. Eventually, she puts her hands on either side of his head, beckoning him up with a smile and a “C’mere.”

 

He stands up and settles back between her legs and kisses her so softly, relishing in the moment. She moves to try to undo the button on his trousers but he deftly does it first, kicking them away. He pushes up against her, the only barrier between them being two layers of fabric. He rolls his hips against her and moans when can feel her wetness soak his boxer briefs. He takes off his underwear and holds her up far enough for her to slip her dress off. He unclips her bra and pulls it away in a blink.

 

He slides his free hand over each breast, giving them each a soft squeeze and nipple twist, making her arch a little closer towards him. The anticipation is killing him and he’s so hard, leaking pre-come, that he just can’t wait. He manages to find his lost trousers and he deftly removes the condom he keeps in his wallet. She plucks it from his hand, ripping it open and rolling it down his length without warning. It makes him groan and suddenly he can’t stand the roadblock that is that soft lacy fabric and rips it off. He runs his cock up and down her slit when suddenly she takes control by grabbing his shoulders to pull herself to him until she’s seated and he’s completely inside her. He near growls and holds on to her tight, waiting a moment before he feels like he can move without coming right away.

 

He pushes her back against the wall and rhythmically thrusts into her. Moans drip from her mouth, a litany of his name following in suit. He’s so close and she is too. She is panting, her thighs are trembling and squeezing his hips, her nails scraping across his back in crisscross patterns. He slides his hand down her body between them and he pulls his head forward enough to whisper in her ear “Come for me” while simultaneously pressing his thumb down on her clit.

 

She lets out a silent scream as he works her through her orgasm, the rhythmic squeezing of her walls pushing him towards the precipice. He’s still rocking inside her when she grabs the back of his head with one hand to pull him into a deep kiss. She sneaks down her other hand to massage his balls, the surprising making him thrust once more, then grunt and hold onto her tight as he comes.

 

She crosses her wrists behind his neck and he can feel her smile when he kisses her. When they break the kiss, her eyes are looking at him so softly. She is seeing all the good parts of him that he is still trying to find – that she will help him find.

 

And he’s so damn grateful.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N I hope you enjoyed this, it is my first attempt at smut. If you have any feedback, comments, or any prompts you would like me to tackle, hit me up either in my inbox here or cellardoors-and-petrichor.tumblr.com.


End file.
